King's Cross Station
by Atlantida
Summary: The true master of death is now dead and, in an empty train station, he and what used to be Voldemort meet for the final time.


When somebody reached a certain age, going to sleep could be quite an adventure. Even closing one's eyes, even for one second, wasn't done with the certainty they would open again.

Some would try to forget that fate, some would avoid sleep altogether for fear of never waking up. In some children's story, when facing Death, one man would attempt to fight the ineluctable, another would try to steal from Death. And the wisest of the three brothers would give his cloak to his child and tell Death: I'm ready. I'll go with you whenever you like.

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes, he didn't quite know where he was. The last thing he could remember was going to sleep and posing his glasses on the nightstand and he had trouble figuring out how he had managed to leave his bed. Putting his hand on his face and feeling the distinct lack of his glasses, his lips started to stretch.

Harry looked at his smooth hands and finally chuckled.

It seemed that death had been kind enough to give him a much younger form and perfect vision. Which was a good thing, considering his old body had pained him in the end. Keeping his arthrosis in death would have been frankly inconvenient.

With a snap of his fingers, he conjured muggles clothes. A bit too big for him he supposed, but it'd do.

He looked around him. King's Cross Station was as clean as when he had met Professor Dumbledore so many years ago. As empty too. Perhaps even emptier considering the Headmaster was not here to welcome him. Which was perfectly normal, he supposed. He hadn't expected the man to wait for him nor did he need his guidance anymore. Rather, he had been the one people sought whenever they had a problem by the end.

If he ever met him again, he would have to tell him he finally understood.

Smiling, he started walking, half-hoping to meet _him_. The _one_ being he wanted to talk to in this strange place.

He finally found the person he was looking for, shivering under the clock where Harry could read 11:40.

A century later and Voldemort hadn't moved from his spot.

Harry knelt on front of the lying form and sighed. "You know, if you see what I see when I look in front of you, I believe this is this the most fitting punishment you could ever receive, Tom." The body chocked and sobbed and Harry sadly smiled.

"Do you finally see the folly it was, Tom? Tearing your soul, fearing death so much you ran from it and walked over the bodies of so many… Can you finally see how stupid you were?"

The body's head slowly moved and red met green. "M-Mercy."

Harry sighed. "I'd give you my cloak to get you warm but that's too much like that tale about the Hallows for me. The whole Master of Death gig is frankly ridiculous," he said. From his overlarge pocket, he retrieved his holly wand and casted a basic warming spell. "There. It should be enough."

For a few minutes, none of them said anything. The lying form slowly stopped shivering and when Harry looked at the clock above them, it was 11:48.

"Do you want to know what the worst thing when it comes to you is?" He put his wand back to his pocket and got up. "Everybody told our children how evil you were, but they just didn't care remembering your name. Probably your fault that one. Or maybe it was ours, I can't really tell. It was 2112 when I died and everybody but my generation forgot who Voldemort was. Even this kind of immortality, you did not get it."

He paused and mused. "I suppose I can give you a summary of what happened to me since we last met. I had a good life. It wasn't always easy, or perfect, I have to admit. But because of you, I learnt to cherish what I had." He couldn't stop a chuckle. "You made me… you made me love life."

Perhaps that was why he was talking to what was left of Tom Riddle, he mused. The man had left a mark not even a century had managed to quite erase. When at eighteen he had realized Voldemort was never going to come back, and his scar never hurt again, he had felt this phantom wound and he hadn't quite known what to make of it.

This sliver of Voldemort's soul had been in him all his life. Voldemort had defined his whole existence. Who was he supposed to be without his other half? What happens to the hero once the villain has been forever vanquished?

He has found the answer with his family. He was Harry Potter, Ginny's husband. He was James, Albus and Lily's father. He was Ron and Hermione's best friend. He was the Chief Auror, then the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and finally Hogwarts Headmaster.

Still, sometimes, he'd go to the Forbidden Forest and stand in the exact spot he stood the night Voldemort casted the Killing curse on him for the second time. Sometimes, he'd walk in the Chamber of Secrets and look at what was left of Slytherin's monster.

Sometimes, he needed to look back and think of the wizard who had ultimately lead him to the path he had chosen.

He softly chuckled. "You must think I'm insane. Talking like this to my bitter enemy. But it's because it's you I need to say this. Thank you."

The body stilled.

"Thank you, Tom." Emerald eyes twinkled. "In a roundabout way, you're the reason I became the man I am today. Oh, others helped. Of course you're only one name among many. Hagrid, Snape, Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, the Weasleys… They also played an important part in my life. But without you, none of it would have happened. I'll thank them later, but it is only natural that I thank you first."

And now that he was going to leave this world where Voldemort welcomed him with a Killing Curse, it was time to finally tell him goodbye.

The clocked showed him it was 11:55. He was going to be late.

He turned from the screaming body. "Stop! Don't! Please!" The body was crying.

"Sorry, Tom." Harry smiled and looked ahead. "I have a train to take and I don't want to be late."

To the well-organized mind, death was nothing but the next great adventure, he remembered Dumbledore telling him when he was but a child. While he might have no idea how organized his mind actually was, he was finally ready to see to what was waiting on the other side.

"Wish me luck."

And, under the shell of his bitter enemy's screams, Harry walked between Platform 9 and Platform 10.


End file.
